


Shifting Through Seasons

by sugarcomatosed



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Character Study, Drabble Collection, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, This is my Niche AU and everyone has got to live with it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:40:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21898312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarcomatosed/pseuds/sugarcomatosed
Summary: Walking through life is much easier with a companion by your side, and after all, who is a better companion than yourself?(A collection of fics set in the same AU, where everyone has something akin to a familiar.  These are written and posted whenever I feel like it so route, topics and scenes will vary but will always be listed in the notes.)
Relationships: Cyril & Claude von Riegan
Comments: 9
Kudos: 40





	Shifting Through Seasons

**Author's Note:**

> "A dæmon /ˈdiːmən/ is a type of fictional being in the Philip Pullman fantasy trilogy His Dark Materials. Dæmons are the external physical manifestation of a person's 'inner-self' that takes the form of an animal. Dæmons have human intelligence, are capable of human speech—regardless of the form they take—and usually behave as though they are independent of their humans. Pre-pubescent children's dæmons can change form voluntarily, almost instantaneously, to become any creature, real or imaginary. During their adolescence a person's dæmon undergoes "settling", an event in which that person's dæmon permanently and involuntarily assumes the form of the animal which the person most resembles in character. Dæmons are usually of the opposite sex to their human, though same-sex dæmons do exist."
> 
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/D%C3%A6mon_(His_Dark_Materials)
> 
> This all comes from me re-reading this fantasy trilogy while playing through FE16 and enjoying character study way too much. You need no real prior knowledge of a dæmon, and this fic was written as a kind of lead in to help you grasp the concept of this sort of universe if you have no prior context. 
> 
> This chapter contains no romantic relationships and no spoilers.

The training grounds were empty that afternoon. Which was just the way Cyril liked it. No one to lurk over him, no one chirping unsolicited advice, nope. There was no around sans him and Nousha. Nousha was a sparrow at the moment, nestled into his hair and peering around. 

“Don’t you think we should wait till Shamir is free?” The dæmon chirped. “You’re still just a beginner.” 

“Nah, we bother her enough. I wanna show her we can get better on our own.” He replied evenly as he rolled the practice target into place. “Are the stands behind the bench?” He wrinkled his nose. 

Nousha took off in a rustle of wings and flew a few paces over. “Yep, someone left this place a mess.” She grumbled as she returned to perch.

“Probably students.” Cyril shook his head. “We’ll do a once over we finish.” He fetched the supports and heaved them over to the target. Nousha nodded her little head rapidly. “We have to keep it tidy if no one else will.” 

Once the target was in place, they could finally get to what they’d come here to do. Practice. Cyril plopped the quiver on the ground next to him and inspected the bow Shamir had given him. It wasn’t the fanciest, but it was nicer than most of the things Cyril owned. He knew if he asked, someone would probably let him use the students’ practice weapons, but Cyril wasn’t a student. Nousha had agreed. “We’re not students. Why would we get to use their things?” 

But Shamir had given him this bow, and told him he could use the practice targets. So that was fine. 

“We’re not leaving until I can hit the center five times in a row.” Cyril announced. Nousha became a ferret and raced down Cyril’s arm to investigate the quiver.

“That seems fair to me.” She nodded. “Or until the Knights come back.” She dug her little paws into the quiver. 

“We’ve lost a lot of arrows.” She remarked. “We shouldn’t have tried to shoot that goose.” 

Cyril scooted her out of the way so he could get to the arrows. She clambered over his arm as he selected a suitable arrow. Cyril smiled but shook her off so he could have his arms unweighted. Shamir might be able to shoot with the weight of peregrine falcon shaped dæmon, Paz, on her shoulder but Nousha ended up distracting Cyril most of the time.

“Don’t loose focus.” She reminded him. “Keep your breathing even and slow.” 

“I know.” Cyril mumbled as he drew his bow and got to work. Nousha sat down and watched. His first arrow sailed through the air and hit one of the outer rings, sinking into the target but off the mark he’d wanted to hit.

His second attempt was no better, Cyril chewed his lip. 

Nousha fished the next arrow out for him and he took it gratefully. He fell into a sort of rhythm and she offered her advice every so often between his attempts. Time passed slowly but steadily and the afternoon waned on without much excitement.

“Yes!” Cyril cried out finally. “Look! Look, Nousha!” He had finally managed to hit the edge of the bullseye. She cried out in delight with him and they both beamed with pride at the achievement. If he could just manage to do it four more times.

Cyril inhaled slowly and drew his bow….

His next arrow missed entirely. They both grew silent. He tried again and hit one of the more central rings.

“Are you drawing the string back far enough?”

“Uhuh.” Cyril slowly retraced his movements in his mind, trying to mimic his successful attempt. He drew the bow again.

It hit, but nowhere close to the center. Cyril wrinkled his nose.

“I think you’re going too slow then. We don’t have all afternoon.” She reminded him.

Cyril rolled his eyes. He knew that. “I’ve got it, Nousha.” He chided. “Trust me.”

She shook her little head and amused herself with her fluffy ferret tail. Cyril pulled back on the bow string once more, concentrating just on the center of the target.

Just like he’d been taught, focus only on the target, keep your head clear. He could hear Shamir’s voice echoing in his head. 

She’d be back from her mission soon. A flicker of unease ran through him. What if he hadn’t improved enough? Would she still keep teaching him?

Cyril pull back on the string a little harder. He felt the bow shudder and a loud unfamiliar twang echoed through the training grounds.

The bowstring had snapped. 

Before he could even register what had happened he felt pain well up across his arm. The snapped string had whipped itself against his arm with surprising force. 

“Ow!” Cyril recoiled half from surprise and half from the pain. Noshua cringed too, as if she’d been struck as well. She scurried across the floor to scamper up his leg and nuzzle his cheek. Cyril numbly reached up to press her closer as hot tears welled up in his eyes suddenly. 

Shamir had warned him about not letting the string hit his arm when he drew back, but she’d never mentioned that a broken string could do something just as painful. 

“Oh no,” Nousha gasped. “Shamir’s bow!” Cyril blinked the tears away and looked at the bow he still clutched in his other hand.

“…shoot.”

The string had completely broken in half. He’d broken it. He sat down in the middle of the training grounds and inspected it. The wood itself looked fine thankfully, but there was no way he could salvage the bowstring. All the while his arm was singing in pain but Cyril had to focus on something else. 

“She’s going to be so angry with me.” Cyril rubbed the last of the tears away.

“…what should we do?” Nousha became a little brown mouse and scampered across his shoulders to look at the welt on his other arm. “You’re going to have a bruise.” 

“I don’t care about that.” Cyril sighed. “The bow is ruined.” 

Nousha was silent as she peered at the ruined weapon. After a moment she spoke up.

“We could ask Claude.” Nousha suggested. “He’s good with bows.”

“Why would he help us?” Cyril grumbled, suddenly irritated with himself for both breaking the bow string and for getting hurt. “He’s got nothing to do with this at all.” 

Nousha raced down his arm in her mouse form to peer at the welt that was forming from where the busted string had slapped Cyril.

“I like Claude. I think he’d help us and might have something for your arm too. And I would rather talk to him and Cyrus then to Manuela and her awful cat.” She twitched her whiskers. 

Cyril had to concede at that point. He would not budge on cleaning up at least a little before they went to find Claude. Cyril’s arm hurt too much to even attempt moving the practice target, so that had to stay out to his displeasure. So clutching the busted bow to his chest, they headed towards the Academy.

The students were just finishing their day’s lessons and filing out of their classrooms and chatting amongst themselves. There was a small window of time between the end of lessons and the start of dinner. This would be the best time to catch Claude. Nousha stayed as a mouse and Cyril hesitated behind the bushes. 

Most students paid Cyril no mind, and he preferred it that way. Less people getting in his way while he did his work but…

He spoke to the Golden Deer students more than he did the others, and the last thing he wanted was all of them to know about how he’d broken Shamir’s bow. But if he went over there now, they’d all see him and ask. If he waited, Claude would probably wander off and Cyril would have to chase him down.

“What should we do?” He asked Nousha. “…can you get to Cyrus?” He asked. It was a bit far but…

“…I think so. Move if it’s touch much.” She leapt off his shoulder, a sparrow once more and fluttered away. Cyril held his breath. It was only a few yards, so it shouldn’t be painful. It still made him anxious when she sped off. 

Claude was in the midst of a conversation with Ignatz. Whatever it was they were discussing, Cyril couldn’t hear it from his spot. Claude’s hand lazily rested on the back of his own dæmon. Cyrus wasn’t invested in the conversation and seemed more intent on watching the students moving about. 

Cyril had admitted to Nousha once, Cyrus made him slightly uneasy. Claude’s dæmon was a deer but not just any deer, Claude’s dæmon was male. Cyrus was a powerful looking stag. He had an air of grace about him and for the most part the dæmon was unconcerned with other people. 

Cyril was unfortunately, an exception. Claude’s dæmon directed more attention to him than it usually spared anyone that wasn’t Claude. Never aggressive or cold, but almost…pensive. It was kind of eerie. 

Nousha landed on Cyrus’s antlers and nipped towards his ear to whisper. Ignatz and Claude continued their conversation, Ignatz’s barn owl politely pretended she didn’t notice Nousha. Cyrus said something, or at least he must have for Nousha took off and returned to Cyril.

She snuggled close to his cheek and Cyril felt himself breathe a little easier now that she’d returned. 

“He said to hang tight. Claude’s almost done talking to Ignatz.”

After a moment, Claude bid Ignatz goodbye and he and Cyrus made their way out of the courtyard, towards the dormitory. 

“Come on!” Nousha took off again and Cyril followed behind, and soon they fell in step with the heir of House Riegan. 

“Afternoon Cyril,” Claude crossed his arms behind his neck. “What’s going on with you today?”

Cyril hesitated till Nousha pecked helpfully at his neck. “…ran into a problem. Nousha thinks you can help us. But if you’re busy we can handle it.” Cyril kept his eyes ahead, focusing on their destination. 

Claude hummed a little. “Got to do with that bow?”

Cyril passed the weapon to Claude. He whistled. “Oh look at that. You snapped the string?”

Cyril rubbed at his faintly stinging arm. “…It was an accident, you know?” He mumbled. “I don’t have anything to restring it with. If you’re busy we could just-“

“Come on. I’ll show you how to restring it.” Claude said casually. “We’ll be done before dinner.” 

Cyril had been to the second floor of the dormitory before, he’d oiled a squeaky door hinge actually just two days prior. Being in Claude’s room on the second floor was a foreign experience. 

“…have you ever cleaned up in here?” Cyril asked, staring at the mound of books on Claude’s bed.

Cyril heard a snort from across the room, Cyrus was laughing. Claude cast his dæmon an irritated look. “You stay out of this.” 

To Cyril’s surprise, Cyrus spoke. “I was planning on it. I was just wondering, if Cyril’s disapproval’s would be enough to get you to pick up your mess.” He said, strolling across the room with a casual air. 

Claude pointedly ignored Cyrus and began shuffling through his desk drawers. He’d placed Shamir’s bow on the desk.

“Here it is, I knew I still had some.” Claude held up a small bundle tied up in a handkerchief. He unwrapped it to reveal a jar with a cork stopper. He pushed the drawer shut and beamed. “Come here,” He uncorked it.

Cyril warily approached the desk. Nousha went to investigate first. Claude placed the jar down, giving the dæmon plenty of room to inspect the salve inside. She dipped her beak into it. Claude laughed. 

“..what is it?” Cyril asked. 

“It’ll make the swelling go down on your arm.” Claude explained. “A bowstring snap like that hurts something fierce. Where did it get you?” 

He dipped two fingers into the jar and Cyril reluctantly held his arm out. Claude steadied Cyril’s arm with one hand, and with the other he deftly applied the medicine. 

The smell was slightly familiar to Cyril, but he couldn’t place it. It was something he hadn’t smelt in a long time.

“…where’d you get it?”

Claude shrugged and wiped his hand clean on the handkerchief it had been wrapped up in. “I made this batch, but my archery teacher back home taught it to me ages ago. You’re not the only person who’s snapped a string, you know.” Claude shrugged.

“…your teacher?” Cyril tilted his head. Somehow it was hard to picture Claude as a beginner archer, considering the stunts he’d seen him pull off in the training ground alone. 

“A friend of my father’s.” Claude said, as if this answered all of Cyril’s questions. 

“You probably wouldn’t like him.” Cyrus said.

“Why not?” Nousha wondered. She had returned to perching on Cyril, and made herself comfortable on top of his head once more. 

Claude drummed his fingers on the desk. “….He’s an interesting guy. He’s petrified of my mother for starters, but really who isn’t.” 

“…so the bow.” Cyril said. “You can fix it?” 

Claude chuckled. “Right, onto business. Was this Shamir’s?” He asked plucking the ruined bow up again.

Cyril frowned. “How could you tell?”

Claude rang his fingers along the tips, where the old string was still fastened. “The knots up here. Look at them.”

Cyril took a closer look.

“…sure are knots.” Cyril remarked. 

“…well. You’re not wrong there. But no one else in the monastery does them like this. It must be a Dagdan style, I don’t string bows like this.” Claude turned it over. “It’s a pretty elegant, but efficient way to do it. Grab that one for me, will you?”

He gestured across the room. Cyril followed his motion and spotted the bow Claude was referring to. Cyril grabbed it and brought it back to Claude. Nousha peered down curiously too. 

Claude turned it over in his hand. “See here? I use this kind of knot.”

And low and behold, Claude was right. His string was fastened differently. 

“…does it effect the draw?” Cyril asked. “You fight differently than Shamir does.”

“Correct, you’re good at this, Cyril.” Claude began undoing the knot on Shamir’s bow. “Shamir fights more at a distance than I do. I’m usually up in the thick of things as a Commander, so I focus more on drawing speed. They’ll both get the job done.” He turned the bow upside down and began undoing the other half of the string. When finished, he handed the bow off to Cyril.

“That’s for you.” 

Claude then started undoing his own bow, soon they were both holding unstrung bows. He dug in a different desk drawer and soon Claude had scattered a pile of strings across the floor and had brought chunk of wax wrapped in parchment. 

Claude sat down on his yellow carpet and crossed his legs. “Ready to learn?” Cyrus settled down on the carpet next to Claude and laid himself down to watch.

Cyril sat down and nodded. It was slow going at first, but once Claude realized Cyril could keep up they picked up the pace.

“And then tuck here, make sure you’re adding enough wax too…” Claude was a surprisingly good, and patient teacher.

Though he did like to talk. A lot.

“Nousha? If you turn into a monkey you can help Cyril keep the string tight.” 

She did as instructed, to Cyril’s displeasure at first but the extra set of hands was making the job easier.

Claude sighed enviously. “You’re lucky Nousha hasn’t settled yet.” Claude said. “Cyrus used to help me string these but then he decided he didn't want opposable thumbs.” 

Cyrus rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t know about lucky. Don’t bother me none that it hasn’t happened yet but everyone thinks I’m just a kid still since Nousha still changes. “ He wrinkled his nose. “ People take you more seriously when you dæmon is settled. You seem more grown up.”

“You’re going to want to tie that tighter.’ Claude pointed. “It’ll come undone the moment you pull it if you leave it like that.” He demonstrated it again. “Go over first, then under.” 

Nousha let go of the string so Cyril could try again.

“…I think we were 12?” Claude looked to Cyrus. 

“12, almost to our thirteen birthday. It was Harpsting Moon.” Came the steadfast reply.

Cyril blinked. “So five years ago?” 

“Give or take.” They both said. 

Cyril hesitated. “…do you miss changing?” He looked at Cyrus. The buck’s intelligent eyes peered at him. 

“…no.” Cyrus said at last. “I like knowing who we are. I do miss flying a bit.” He mused. “But I say don’t worry too much about it, it’ll come when the moment is right.” He directed this at Nousha who was sitting on her haunches, listening intently to Cyrus’s words. 

Claude scratched the deer’s neck. “Come on, or else we won’t finish by dinner.”

Nousha scooted out of Claude’s way so the older boy could sit directly next to Cyril and correct his hands. She sat down next to Cyrus who repeated the steps to her, so if there was anything Cyril forgot she might remember and help. 

“If you need arrows, or another string, or even just some advice when it comes to archery, just ask.” Claude said casually as he finished with his bow. He pulled on the string and seemed pleased with its quality. 

Cyril didn’t look up, he was still a step or two behind Claude. 

“…thanks.” Cyril mumbled, a little embarrassed but also grateful. “I’ll try not to bug ya unless we need to though. You’re always moving and it’s annoying to find you.”

“…says the kid who does laps around the Monastery.” Claude quipped. “I’m serious though.”

“This look good?” Cyril passed his newly strung bow to Claude. 

“Nice job!” Claude beamed. “It’s not pretty, but it’ll get it done and that’s all I care about. And we’re done right on time.” He handed the bow back to Cyril and got to his feet. Cyrus followed. 

“You’re a good listener Cyril. Anytime you want some pointers, we’d be happy to spare them.”

“Thank you!” Nousha said, reply before Cyril could decline. She stretched and got to her feet and only then did Cyril notice.

Nousha had become a deer too, a pretty looking doe to match Cyrus. His cheeks grew hot.

“Nousha come on. We gotta go put this back and clean up the training grounds still.” Cyril clambered to his feet.

“No dinner first?” Claude asked. He drew no attention to Nousha but Cyril could see the ghost of a smug smirk already appearing across his face. 

Cyril willed for her to accept his silent plea and change into anything else, even a useless fish. But no, she happily stayed a deer.

“Nope. There’s always plenty left over anyway and we left it a real mess. Thanks again.” Cyril hastily made an exit, Nousha chirped a pleasant goodbye and they headed down the stairs.

“Why are you so embarrassing?” Cyril groaned. Nousha’s hooves clopped loudly down each step.

“You’re the embarrassing one.” She retorted. “I told you they could help!”

“He’s going to tease me.” Cyril sighed. “He teases everyone.”

“…well, you could tell him what I noticed. That might stop him.” She mused. Cyril frowned.

“What did you notice?”

“The Bows in the Armory are strung in a different way. Different from both Shamir and Claude’s methods.” Nousha informed him. “I noticed when I was helping you. Isn’t that weird?”

Cyril had to admit, Nousha was usually right. It was odd, but Cyril had things to do so he pushed it from his mind.

**Author's Note:**

> Dæmons featured in this chapter: 
> 
> 1\. Nousha. Cyril's yet to settle dæmon. She is curious and quite sweet, often the first to get Cyril to seek help when he is too stubborn too. Her name is Persian for sweet or pleasant. 
> 
> 2\. Cyrus. Claude's deer dæmon, an oddity for he is the same gender as his human. An aloof and hard to read character, he seems to have a dry sense of humor. His name is the Greek form of the Persian name Kūrush, which may mean "far sighted" or "young". 
> 
> Yes, this was chosen partially because I was looking up suitable names and saw this one and went "Cyrus Albright." 
> 
> Onto the actual notes.
> 
> I am only posting this for two reasons. I am thinking about this a lot and working on it when I should be writing my ClaudeHilda fic.
> 
> 2\. ajstyling saw me talking about in twitter and wanted to read this so with one person who is not ampersandqueen or treekianthia to encourage my au bs we are posting this.
> 
> The concept of a dæmon is just too much fun of a concept to restrain to one universe, and wildly, because the source books take place in a multiverse this could in fact be canon to those books. Don't think about it too hard.
> 
> This is not actually the first piece of fic I have written for this AU, but I didn't think the actual first piece I formally wrote would make a good starting chapter since it stars young Dimitri, Sylvain and Felix and is decidedly darker in tone than this. We'll see when that gets posted.
> 
> Also it's like 3 am I'm going to bed now. Stan Cyril, do crime.


End file.
